


Her Grace

by Galaxysphere



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Body Worship, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Soft Femdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:06:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galaxysphere/pseuds/Galaxysphere
Summary: Essek worships Jester as his new god
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Essek Thelyss
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Her Grace

**Author's Note:**

> I've been in a mood lately for some soft femdom from strong women and since Jester and Essek is one of my favorite ships and there's not a lot out there for them I decided to take up the mantle and do what needed to be done. Also in Greek Mythology the nectar of the gods was said to be blue and who else is blue, hmmm.

There's a ritual he partakes in. Has to partake in. Must partake in. It's an irregular ritual that only happens when She deems it, but he's always a willing participant, the only participant, a shiver runs down his spine at the thought. But he's always ready. He would never her. She is after all, his saving grace. His shelter in the storm. His goddess, and her willing disciple, worshiping at her feet as long as she will have him.

Before her throne he waits for her on his knees. Bare of every scrap of fabric besides the silk blindfold that bares her color covering his eyes. He's not allowed to look upon her visage unless she allows it.

Her footsteps are almost silent as she approaches, and he can feel his breathing getting heavier with every step. He tenses when they stop right in front of him and nothing happens for a moment, but he knows her gaze is upon him. A shiver of anticipation runs down his spine.

At times she would take a paint brush to his heated skin, cool drags of paint making him shiver and gasp as she made him into her living canvas. Other times there would be the feather light touch of her fingers running down his chest or against his thigh right before she took him into her hand, stroking him with barely there touches that left him want more. He always wants more but never asks for it unless she wants him to voice his desires.

She places a land in his hair, and he has to suppress the urge to lean into it. She threads her fingers through the long parts of his hair before rubbing at the freshly shaved down sides, fingers trailing his pointed ear with a ghostly touch. He can't stop his ear from twitching at the barely there sensation and above him she giggles. The sound causing blood to rush south.

"Oh, Essek your so pretty like this." Her hand trails down the side of his jaw, thumbing at his lower lip before prying it open. Her thumb presses down heavily on his tongue and he's not sure if it’s a whine or a moan that comes out of him at her simple praise.

Her other hand comes up to cradle his jaw before slipping to the back of his head to the knot in the silk blindfold. It tumbles away and catches on her wrist. She's dressed in nothing but a sheer robe of silver, but he doesn't look away from her face. 

She takes her thumb from his mouth, smearing his saliva on his bottom lip. Turning around she lets her robe fall from her broad shoulders as she steps towards her throne. 

With her back turned he allows himself to look upon her body. She's powerful, wide shoulders and hips to match, muscular arms and thighs he wouldn’t mind having his head crushed between.

When she turning to take a seat, his eyes are back on her face like they never left it. She pats her thigh in a silent command that he instantly knows and crawls forward, being mindful of her discarded robe on the ground.

He rests his head in her lap eyes fluttering close and sighing at the feel of her cool skin against his heated flesh. From this close he can smell her, the sweet musk of her core. He starts to salivate just at the smell alone.

Her hands find its way into his hair again. "What is it you want, Essek."

He remembers the first time she asked him what he wanted, down in the hull of the Ball-Eater, and how what he wanted then is so different from what he wanted now. "I wish to worship you," He boldly kisses her thigh, tongue slipping out to get a take of her skin. It earns him a sharp flick to his ear but it's worth it. "Genevieve."

Jester was her mortal name, commonly spoken. But Genevieve, her god name, was only used in these moments, only spoken in prayer and moaned in hymns that fell from his lips.

"And how do you wish to worship me?"

"With my tongue." Finally, he looks up at her and watches as one of her sweet smiles spreads across her face. It's a tongue that's weaved many lies, a tongue that's formed alliances, and a tongue that brought him into her light. It's the best instrument for repentance.

"Then worship me." She says in a voice that's barely above a whisper but is a command all on it's on, as she spreads her legs like they are the gates to a promised land.

He doesn't break eye contact as he moves forward to taste her. Taking a broad lick up her slit before wrapping his tongue around her clit. He relishes the way she sighs a moan and tips her head back as he continues to taste her, worship her.

Above him, she sighs a moan that sounds so much like his name, sliding further down throne and further into his eager mouth. He laps up her juices like a parched man, it's her gift to him and his worship. The nectar of a god, his god, his saving grace. He would sit before her on his knees for eternity just to continue to take such a delicacy.


End file.
